Awoken
by fantasyfreak133
Summary: The New York cemetery was cold. Wind whistled through the graves like a lonely spirit singing a forgotten melody as storm clouds hovered in the dark sky. A slow, insane laughter suddenly began and vibrated through the wet earth... a white, sickly hand forced itself out of the ground. The fingers curled, as if trying to catch the moon above and wring the light out of it.
1. More Then It Seems

**AWOKEN**

**chapter one:**

**More Then It Seems**

Peter Parker, better known as the amazing Spiderman, stood amongst the wreckage of his best friend, Harry Osborn's, Goblin lair. Machinery and glass vials lay shattered on the ground and the brick walls were smashed and crumbling. Part of the destruction was due to the fight they had had when Peter had been under the influence of Venom. But he knew that they hadn't destroyed the lair _this_ much. Someone had come back and finished the job. Harry? Had he taken one more dose of the Goblin drug before destroying his father's old lair?

Peter frowned. That meant that after helping him defeat the Sandman and Venom... Harry had planned on leaving the darkness behind. Possibly forever?

Well, it was too late now. Harry had been dead for three days; murdered at Venom's hand with his own glider like his father before him. Killed by Venom trying to save... him. Peter squeezed his eyes shut. Harry was dead because of him. At least he had died as Harry Osborn and not the Goblin. He'd died redeemed and surrounded by friends who loved him.

The Spiderman scanned the damaged room, taking in the lost feelings left behind by the previous owners. Maybe it was an enhanced spider sense. But he _could_ feel what Harry and his father had felt while working and scheming in this hidden room. Anger, jealousy, loss, power, abandonment, greed. Peter shuddered. And utter insanity.

Finally his eyes came to rest on on a small cupboard that sat, undamaged, and half hidden by a wooden beam. Pushing the beam aside he studied the lock on the small door. Looking around to make sure he was alone, Peter fed webbing into the lock until he heard a satisfying_ 'click.'_ He pulled the small doors open and peered inside.

Vials... more Goblin drug.

They all sat secured in holes punctured into a metal disk... but one hole was empty. Peter frowned at the empty hole. This liquid looked different. It was yellow. And it boiled of its own accord in the glass, even though it was winter outside. Had this been a new, enhanced serum that Harry's father invented before he died? Was this the last dose that Harry took before his own death?

Peter took one of the vials and walked into the normal looking office in the next room. He stopped in front of the big desk and moved the microscope there into place. He slipped a glass slide into it and then pulled out his pocket knife. Wincing as he pressed the tip into his flesh, the blade broke the skin of his thumb. Smearing the blood onto the slide he picked up the vial. The harmless looking yellow liquid none the less made his skin prickle in warning. This was what created both Harry and his father's second, insane personality. This was what had drove them to try and kill both him and Mary-Jane multiple times. This was what brought out the evil.

With a quick intake of breath Peter squared his shoulders and opened the vial. With practiced precision Peter put three drops of the drug on the slide as well. Capping the vial he quickly put his eye to the lens and peered inside.

He saw his cells, slightly tainted from the spider mutation but other than that, normal looking. But then the drug seeped into the blood. Nothing. But, then... Peter flinched as his cells started to dart around rapidly, as if trying to flee from the drug. And then, the cells turned grey and ceased to move.

It had _killed_ his cells. Poison... _it was poison_!

Peter pushed away from the desk, shaken. Poison!

Then he turned back. But if it was poison, how did—? Peter quickly put his eye back to the scope again. Just in time too for his cells started changing color again. Yellow. They turned yellow and then started to vibrate. They moved with incredible speed, racing around on the slide like a rabbit stuck in a cage. The speed of the cells matched the rate of his heart beat as he watched. And then, the glass slide shattered!

Peter jumped back, his heart hammering and his blood pounding in his ears. _What the hell was this?!_

"Peter?"

Peter turned to see his girlfriend, Mary-Jane Watson, standing in the doorway.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He plastered a smiled on his face before walking over to her. He placed a kiss on her cheek. "I'm fine, I just miss him."

She nodded. "Me too."

"Ready for dinner?" he asked. A smile spread across her face as she nodded and took the arm he offered.

As they walked out Peter couldn't help feeling relieved. He turned one more time to flick off the light. His eyes rested on the vial of yellow drug. Whatever that was, Harry... the Goblin. They had been much more then they seemed. That drug held properties much more complex then it seemed. Harry was dead. But the mystery was still unsolved.

Finally turning off the light, Peter left to join Mary-Jane outside.

xXx

Not far off in the New York cemetery, a storm was brewing. The headstones of the grave yard stood out bleak and depressing despite the green grass and flowers. The wind whistled through the stones like a lonely spirit sining a tune. A crow cawed and landed on a large headstone with fresh roses piled at its base. It cocked its head and cawed again, studying the clouds, as if trying to discern the best way of defeating them. Suddenly, a strange noise shattered the still air. The crow took flight in alarm as a slow, insane laughter vibrated through the wet earth.


	2. The Monster Within

**AWOKEN**

**chapter two:**

**The Monster Within**

_HAHA!_

The insane laughter exploded in his brain like a nail being driven into his skull. He gasped and his eyes flew open at the pain. His heart started to race in panic. Where was he? How did he get here? It was dark, and wet, the small dark space he was in closed in on him even more as claustrophobia and pain overtook his freezing body. He began to shake, coughs racked his thin form and strange things were scratching outside the wooden box he was in.

"Son..."

He stilled as the voice reached his ears like an old friend reaching for a hug.

"Father?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, son, I'm here. Lie still, you are almost healed."

He looked down to his chest where he felt the pain. Unbuttoning his suit jacket he ripped away his white shirt. His eyes widened and he let out a gasp of air in panic as he watched the skin start to knit together. What was happening? He started to struggle. Where was he? His father was dead... how was he hearing his voice? How did he know the voice belonged to his father? He didn't remember anything; how he got there, who he was... what was his name?

"You know who you are," the voice of his father echoed in his head. You know how you got here... _murdered_. You were killed by a man you thought was your best friend. Betrayed... tricked into fighting for a cause that was false, against a villain who was really only misunderstood. He was trying to help you get our revenge... Son, don't you remember? The pain? The suffering? The betrayal? He killed me, he took away Mary-Jane, he tried to kill you."

The man squeezed his eyes shut and cocked his head, as if trying to listen harder. He tried to remember; tried to remember the pain and betrayal his father was talking about. But the folds of his memory were black and distant. The only think he _could_ remember was his father, the voice inside his head; talking to him, guiding him. He remembered a man full of ambition, pride, love. He remembered a father who strove to do the best for him, even if at times it put them at odds. He didn't have many memories of their time together or how he died, all there was was emotion, feeling. What was past and done, his relationship with his father squirmed itself into his brain one tiny feeling at a time.

But the rest of his life... his memories... his friends... it all remained frustratingly blank.

But then, a small flicker, like a light at the end of a tunnel. Yes, it was coming back! The light was getting brighter, soon, small images made themselves known to his sore head... Growing up in complete wealth and comfort... his father driving him to school... and later high-school... laughing about girls... And then the memories fluttered by rapidly and were replaced by more foreboding images and feelings. A dark room full of vials and machinery... weird, insane laughter echoing through the house... a man all in red and blue lying his dead father on the sofa... Mary-Jane kissing his best friend... no, his former best friend... the need for revenge... asking a man with many arms to bring _someone_ to him... the red and blue man lying on the same sofa... ripping his mask off... Peter Parker... Peter Parker had betrayed him! Explosions burst into his tortured mind. _Pain, rage_. Peter had told him his father hated him, he was a failure. Agony erupted on the side of his face... mangled, disfigured.

He screamed as the memories kept coming, filling his empty head until it was near bursting, like blowing a balloon until the elastic is stretched to its limits.

Burning, pain, suffering... rage... Peter did this... no, he needs help. Mary-Jane is in danger! Venom. Fighting, more pain. Calling Peter to help. To free himself... knocked off his glider, pain exploding in his head. No, the villain was going to murder the trapped Peter with his glider. Wait! No! Without thought or hesitation he throws himself at his old friend. He was suddenly in front of the glider. The blades were in his chest. White hot, agonizing pain. He was dying. Faces, blurry and distorted, trying to say something. Nothing. More pain, rage. They had left him. He had died trying to save a betrayer. And then... nothing.

The young man gasped in shock, his eyes flying open as the memories stopped, to be replaced by anger. He had _died_ because they had been _weak_. But, where was he? In hell?

"No, son, not dead, but in the _grave_," his father hissed.

"What?"

"That last Goblin _ambrosia_ you took," he continued. "It was my masterpiece. A genetic enhancer. A mutation. Enhanced speed, strength... healing. It takes many days for the mutation to complete. But it is done now. You are healed."

He shook his head. The drug...

He looked down at his chest again as the skin finished covering the wounds on his chest. And then, he felt something similar, but harder, more scalelike, wrapping around his heart as well. A yellow reptilian hide covered his heart and he felt feeling melt away. Suddenly, a wide, crazy smile spread across his white face. He was hole again.

"Now, get yourself out of this _hell hole_... it is time to take revenge on the ones who made your life miserable and allowed your death. Revenge son, you have been brought back to life! Don't waste it."

"Yes father," he hissed. "I won't."

And then, the drug finished its cycle through his thin body, staining every tissue, every cell, every bone yellow. His blood boiled.

A sudden, insane laugh exploded from his lips and he smashed his feet against the lid of the coffin. It shuddered. With another kick his feet kicked through the lid, shattering the wood. With new, crazed energy he began to dig. His hands tore through the wet earth, pulling it down to pile around him in the coffin. He began to move upwards. His nails peeled back and blood began to pour down his arms. His face and neck were laced with bulging purple veins as he strained against nature, against the call of the dead itself. Worms dug into his skin and decay began to claim his body again, but he mustered strength and will and his cells began to regenerate, mutating into the fast healing zombie he had become.

xXx

The cemetery outside was cold and as the storm clouds finally found their place and hovered over the graves, a white, sickly hand suddenly forced itself out of the earth. The fingers curled, as if trying to catch the moon above and wring the light out of it.

A murder of ravens sitting in a tree suddenly took to the air in fright as icy rain started to fall and lightning struck the ground near the ghostly hand. And then, more limbs started to follow that hand; an arm, a shoulder, a head half covered in long dark hair. And then, a man was crouching in the grass. His knees bent up past his neck and eyes alert like a small venomous creature... a monster... a goblin.

A small cat hunting for mice suddenly came upon the grave. It let out a frightened yowl as a figure suddenly arose from out of a ground. With grey skin, back hunched and teeth glittering white in insanity, he looked like a sickly character from a ghost story. If the cat had had the intelligence to know what had just taken place before him, it would have tucked its tail between its legs and fled to the protection of the nearest trash bin. But instead, he regarded the man slowly for a moment before attempting to lick away the rain from its fur.

The man's gaze turned toward the stone at his side. His bloodshot eyes narrowed in hate as he looked at the name engraved on it. With a blood curling howl he stood up and ripped the headstone out of the earth. With muscles straining and heavy breath, he threw the stone with all his might. It landed a couple of yards away and shattered in a cloud of grey dust which quickly dissipated in the rain.

The cat, startled by the noise raced up the nearest tree. It sat there hissing quietly.

The man turned back to the grave he had just risen from and then lifted his face to the sky. The rain beat upon his warn face and his eyes fluttered shut. Small tendrils of red and brown water began to trickle down his face and neck.

"Son," the voice of the Goblin was still insistent. "Do you know who you are _now_?"

The man smiled. "Yes father." He looked at the shattered grave stone.

"_I am Harry Osborn_."

"And what are you going to do?"

Harry lifted his crazed filled eyes to the moon once more as insane laughter exploded from his cracked lips.

"Kill Peter Parker..."

* * *

**Many thanks to all of you readers who are now following my story. There is only one more chapter left so keep an eye out for that!**

**I'm also writing a full length story for Star Wars entitled 'EarthLing.' It's about a Star Wars geek who gets transported to the galaxy far, far away with only her wits and a few old _and_ new friends to help her. Rated T, Romance/Sci-Fi.**

**Visit my blog at blogspot: tyzeiter ****  
**


	3. I Have Awoken

**AWOKEN**

**chapter three**

**I Have Awoken**

Mary-Jane Watson opened the door to her apartment and stepped into the dark room. As she tossed her keys onto the table she shook out her long red hair after pulling off the beanie hat that had been keeping her ears warm from the frigid air outside.

She sighed tiredly. It had been a long day working at the jazz club, serving customers, singing on the stage, ignoring flirting hot-shots. At least Peter had stopped by for a sandwich and to check up on her. They were slowly but steadily working their relationship out. Staying tuned in on each others feelings and trying to be humble while dealing with problems. He was still distracted and busy most of the time with his duties as Spiderman. But despite that he was trying hard to not get consumed in his 'work.' M.J. sighed, he wasn't that good at it but Aunt May was helping him as well, teaching him how to still be a man and yet sensitive to his girlfriends needs. She was trying to know and help with his needs too. Even if it was just cleaning scratches or even more serious wounds after a night fighting crime in the city.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew into the apartment. She turned to see the curtains fluttering in the icy wind blowing in from the open window. Mary-Jane frowned, _hadn't she closed that before she left_?_ And bolted it as well?_ She hurried over to shut the window as goosebumps suddenly peppered her flesh.

Her blood suddenly turned as icy as the wind outside as a low chuckle rumbled through the room. With a gasp, she whipped around just in time to see a shadow detach itself from the wall.

The sparkle of wet teeth penetrated the darkness as it smiled. "M.J. darling..."

Mary-Jane's heart raced like a frightened rabbit as she flicked on the light. When she turned back around... the ghost of Harry Osborn rose before her; towering over her suddenly quaking small form.

"_H-Harry_?" she choked. He smiled. She put her hand to his pale cheek, expecting it to go right through the illusion. Instead, her fingertips came in contact with warm, living flesh. Her throat closed and her heart hammered in her chest when his eyelids fluttered shut and he leaned into her hand, as if relishing her touch.

"But you're _dead_," she whispered hoarsely. His eyes flew open. "We _buried_ you five days ago."

"Shsh," Harry put a pale finger to her lips. "It doesn't matter what happened or what you saw. All that matters is that I'm here now."

"Yes, but," she frowned in confusion. "Why are you _here_?"

He brushed a strand of orange hair out of her face. "Because I love you Mary-Jane. I always have."

A tear trickled down her face. _How was he here? How was this happening?_

"You hold the key to my heart," he continued. "_You hold the key to my heart_... But most importantly, you hold the key to Peter Parker - to Spiderman's heart."

She started to back away, feeling even more uneasy. He followed, like a predator cornering his prey.

"My father always told me that to take down an enemy you must first attack his heart."

The rabbit in her chest felt like it was going to climb up her throat. "But you love me," she whispered... This was not Harry, she realized, this was the Goblin.

Shivers raced up her spine as he laughed wolfishly in response. "Perhaps, but I hate Parker more."

"No!" she shouted. "You're _dead_ Harry! Dead and buried in the grave!"

"No, love. I have found my true self, I have escaped the prison bars of the coffin, I have come back to have my _revenge_."

She trembled in terror at his words.

He smiled widely, insanely. "I have, lets just say... _awoken_."

* * *

**Well, that's the end of this short story. I hope you guys enjoyed and I would love it if you would leave a review. I know asolutely nothing is explained in this. I just wanted it to be a quick horror story about Harry. I loved him and hated that he died in Spiderman 3. And, no, he's not a zombie and, no, even though I don't have plans to write anymore on this, Harry doesn't remain evil or insane forever in my mind. Like I said, I just wanted to write a quick story. It was a ton of fun! And don't get mad at me because of the ending! ;-P**

**Check out my other stories on my profile! I have three one-shots and one full legnth. I have plans to start another full legnth for the Hunger Games. It is rates M and is Romance/Horror. Follow me so you'll know when I start posting it!**


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